


By the Fire of Love That Burns My Heart

by Professional_Creeper



Category: Frankenstein & Related Fandoms, Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Human/Monster Romance, M/M, No Smut, POV Second Person, Past Character Death, Reader-Insert, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 22:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20089594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professional_Creeper/pseuds/Professional_Creeper
Summary: The creature has been going a bit mad these past centuries, studying the dark arts and working on his villain laugh—he’s even acquired some heroic nemeses set on thwarting his sinister plans! All because of a lost love he is desperate to bring back to life, even if it means tearing the fabric of reality apart!





	By the Fire of Love That Burns My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of for an anon request from Tumblr: _angst concept: MC is killed somehow, and creature/Adam resolves to either take them back to Victor, or straight up steal Victor's notes to try and reanimate them himself. anyone's guess, if it works or not. _
> 
> I don't think this is exactly what they meant but here it is

A group of valiant heroes race through a dark castle, which stands like a spire atop a desolate Swiss mountain, their boots clapping against the stone as they descend into the dank dungeon below.

“Stop, fiend!” a golden-haired adventurer shouts, “the Bureau of Paranormal Investigation will never allow you to pierce the veil!”

“YOU ARE TOO LATE,” a harsh, booming voice echoes. A steel gate drops in front of them with a heavy clank, and another behind, trapping them. The voice cackles madly. 

Gathering his instruments around him, the dark, immense silhouette of the monster emerges from the shadows, and draws an intricate sigil upon the floor.

“In fact, I was counting on your following me. Did it not seem too easy?” he taunts. Taking a long spear, the creature plunges it deftly and suddenly between the metal bars, hitting his target. One of the adventurers, a sallow young man in glasses, gives a sharp yelp as the weapon pierces his shoulder. “The blood of a descendant of my despised creator. The last ingredient.” The monster grins a pearly-white grin that does not match his dry-parchment complexion. With a fluid motion, he flicks the blood onto the sigils, and the markings begin to glow with magic. As the etheric light swirls and fills the air, the room shakes as if by earthquake—no, not the room—it is as if reality itself is cracking.

“Whatever beast you are summoning, you-you mustn't!” the sallow young man cries, “There was a reason my ancestor refused to help you! He believed you were capable of destroying all of mankind if he granted your wish. There will be repercussions even you cannot predict. I know you hold an ancient grudge against my family, but you cannot doom the entire world! Please! I’m begging you to reconsider before it’s too late!”

There are many things the creature could say, that he could spit at this naive Frankenstein in contempt, but he is bored of hatred after so many years. The whole of humanity could burn—or not—all he cares about is one thing, and nothing will stop him from getting it. He watches the glowing of the seals, his eyes feverish with anticipation.

“Here it comes. However monstrous this fiend is, whatever he summons from Hell shall be even worse. Brace yourselves!”

* * *

Slowly, you begin to remember. You remember the ashy taste of smoke filling your throat and scorching your lungs. You remember the searing pain of your flesh blistering as it was licked by the flames. The rough rope digging into your wrists was a discomfort you could no longer feel over the agony of burning alive. And then everything went black.

You open your eyes.

There are distant shouts echoing off the hard stone walls of the torch-lit dungeon you appear to be in, but you hardly give them any notice. The first thing you see is a familiar face, smiling so sweetly and tenderly at you that you almost don’t notice its cadaverous hollowness. You never minded his appearance, anyway. There is a haze around your memory, like waking from a dream, and you’re not quite sure when you last saw him. (Don’t you see him every day?) All you know is there’s a burning feeling in your stomach of missing him _so much_.

“It is really you?” he whispers, almost a prayer.

“My love!” You laugh brightly, throwing your arms around his neck and flooding him with kisses. His arms lift you off the cold stone altar or sarcophagus you had been laying on.

Somewhere in the distance, voices argue in sharp, confused tones. In between the desperate, passionate smashing of your lips against his, you make out only a few words, including, “—doesn’t look like a demon?” and “what the f—” 

His skin is just slightly too cool for a human, as always, but his arms still feel warm around you. You’re freezing, actually. As if you had been swimming in an icy river. And as you peer out over his shoulder, you confirm you are indeed in a castle dungeon, surrounded by strange tools and occult paraphernalia, with several oddly-dressed prisoners trying to free themselves from a steel cage.

“Wait. What… what happened? What is this place?” you tremble, pulling back. He sets you down again on the stone platform, his face unreadable as he searches for the words to explain. His hesitation convinces you something is very, very wrong—he never hides anything from you. You stare at the back of your hands. Your skin. There was something wrong with your skin.

It was… fine.

“No. I remember… I remember _burning_. The fire. How am I not burned or scarred?”

“My love…”

“No! Not just burning. I died, didn’t I?” you demand, breathing hard and shallow.

He puts a large hand on your shoulder, and his yellow eyes meet yours, trying to calm you. In a slow, deep voice, he says, “It has been two-hundred years, my love. It is the 21st century now.”

“Two-hundred years?” you breathe. “That can’t be.”

“I can thank Victor for one thing. There is no reason my body, powered by an artificial mechanism of life, need ever age or die. I have lived all this time, learning every science and mysticism that could return you to me. When my father refused to aid me in restoring life to your physical form, the dark arts became the last refuge of my hopes. I have spent every waking minute finding a way to bring you back. And it worked. Finally, you are here. We are together again.”

He stoops to kiss you again, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. “But… So much time has gone by. We were only together a decade. If it has truly been two centuries, you’ve been working to restore me far longer than we ever knew each other. Do I even know you anymore?”

“Of course you know me!” he snarls, making you jump. “I did all of this for you—now do as you were meant to, and _love me!_” He gnashes his teeth, towering over you at his full eight feet of height. Your breath catches in your throat and tears prick your eyes. He was always prone to outbursts of emotion, but he never behaved like this before. He never made you afraid. 

Who had he become in all that time? Left on his own, his goodness and gentleness eroded away as he obsessed over his one goal—you.

But as quickly as his anger flashed, the moment he saw your horrified expression, he melted to his knees, bowing his head over your lap. “I am sorry, my love. Forgive me. I have been alone for so long, waiting for this day. You still know me.” He looks up, yellow eyes soft and sorrowful. He reaches cautiously toward your face, and when you don’t recoil, wipes a tear that had formed at the corner of your eye. 

You consider his apology, and, after leaving him dangling for a few dreadful moments, stroke his hair like the magnanimous owner of a penitent cat after a night of roving. “Have you never loved again in all this time?”

“Never. Who else could ever tolerate such a wretch?”

“Oh you poor, foolish man.” You cup his chin, and can’t help but get caught up admiring him. Though his skin was scarred and shrivelled like a corpse, he had a strong jawline that made him quite handsome. “Of course there are others who would love you. I’ve always told you so.”

“And if they were caught up by some angry mob that was looking for me? If they were burned alive for loving me as well? No—I could never put another in danger after what happened to you. Not until I could correct the injustice that was done.”

You lean in to kiss him, but are interrupted by the loud choking sounds of weeping. One of the men in the cage—a bespectacled boy bleeding from his shoulder—blows his nose into a handkerchief and swipes at his reddened eyes.

“Th-that’s so beautiful. I had no idea.” he whimpers.

Oh right. Those guys. 

"Umm. So, who are they?"

"Oh, well, you see..." The creature scratches the back of his head, and shrugs his shoulders sheepishly. "I had to break certain... laws of nature, you know, spitting in the face of god and so forth in order to bring you back. There may have also been some crimes involved. At some point a monster-hunter group got wind of what I was doing, and—"

"You WHAT?"

"And, you know, the prejudice of humans against me has not changed in the passing eras." His eyes shift around the room, landing on his feet, which he scuffs nervously on the floor. “They just see a monster and… and make assumptions.” 

"Oh don't give me that excuse, buddy, you are in _so_ much trouble! Breaking the laws of nature..." You wag your index finger at him.

Grinning widely, he pulls you off the altar into his arms, and squeezes you tightly to his chest. You nuzzle into him, breathing in his familiar tomb-scent, and twining your fingers around his neck, through his long, dark hair. You sigh. Life was always an adventure when you were by his side, good or bad. Now you have a second chance, whatever the future holds. You're finally home.


End file.
